


The Punishment Will be Due

by Niargem



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Tragedy, Blood and Violence, First Kinslaying (Tolkien), Friendship/Love, M/M, One Shot, heated arguments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-10-08 09:54:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17384285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niargem/pseuds/Niargem
Summary: After witnessing Fëanáro's speech in the public square, Findekáno grew concerned at the growing uprising against the Valar and seeked to meet Maitimo to dissuade him from this perilous course.Heated arguments with their hearts still burning with fondness for the other, they promised to stay true to each other, knowing not what shall happen, and what tragedies will occur.An account of Fëanor's speech during the unrest in Valinor, and the Kinslaying at Alqualondë after the Darkening.





	The Punishment Will be Due

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first time posting a fic, so I'm kind of nervous, but here it is! Been writing unpublished silm fics for months, and this one is quite old, but I do want to put it out there.
> 
> I hope you enjoy! Do tell me what you think!

Findekáno was among the spectators and listeners who gathered at the great square in the precipiece of Tirion. Murmurs and hushed whispers reigned amongst moving feet and jingling jewelries hanging from the nobles' hair and hands, face scrunched up into either disdain or confusion, and in some others, Findekáno can plainly see, utter distrust.

He stepped forward, settling for the front as he fixed his position there sternly alongside his kin from Arafinwë's house. They were princes and princesses of the Noldor, and always they are crowned, born and bred with the regality and grace of the royal house of Finwë, High King of the Noldor. When the crowd substantially grew, the noise steadily rose with it, Noldorin Elves from the ranks of Mahtan and Rumíl had come as well, some pushing and some cursing for their distaste in being squashed into the hustling crowd waiting for the main attraction. His eyes then darted to the still empty pedestal, high it was and carved in marble from the crafty hands of Nerdanel, and so must fate have it that her husband will soon stand upon it and utter words she was in strong disagreement with for that was what the rumors have told.

Fëanáro was to make a speech regarding the rising conflict of the Valar's secrecy.

Findekáno's eyes scanned the area, looking for his father, Nolofinwë, and his siblings, but they weren't here, yet. Perhaps, it will be better if his father did not arrive. For the conflict delved deeper than that, and he remained wary of the words of his uncle. There are no basis for the rumors circling through the tongues of the Eldar, and he, himself, was hesitant to believe such a thing.

Fëanáro, despite his apparent disdain that he makes no attempt in concealing, would not go as far as to drive Nolofinwë and their family away from Tirion.

He did not believe it; he refused to believe it! Especially when his mind drifted to dark red curls, despite Turukáno clearly laying out his distrust of their kin; when his thoughts recalled a stern and steely glance, even if Irissë alluded it to their cold and prideful hearts; and when his heart remind him of a smile so kind with a stance that oozed with a non-arrogant confidence, even if Arakáno told him they were all just lies and deceit.

For his cousin, Maitimo, would never betray him like that.

There is a resounding belief in his heart that all of them were wrong; that there is something else at play here, and he would not let pesky rumors sunder Maitimo away from him.

And that was why he was here, today.

A horn erupted at the front, echoing even far beyond the great square, the sound so great it captured the songs of birds and echoes of hills far from the bright city. Then the thunderous rhythm of drums followed, and with it, came strong footsteps that seemed to shake the ground below them, and Findekáno's breath hitched.

Maitimo's dark red curls flew with the wind as he walked behind his father, Fëanáro, as his eldest and heir. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes were fixed upfront. Behind him are the rest of his six brothers, all wearing their own formidable expressions that sang and screamed their stance: they are here to support their father. They are the seven sons of Fëanáro, and to him, their unwavering loyalty lies. The star of Fëanáro stood proudly upon their chest, while the banners of their house were held by the Ambarussa Twins, Fëanáro's youngest sons, on both corners of the pedestal.

Findekáno's heart skipped when Maitimo's amber eyes suddenly darted to his, a quick glance that was too quick for Findekáno to register anything clearly. But from the way his jaw tightened and his eyes steeled, Findekáno knows Maitimo well enough to know that conflict brews within his concealed emotions, and that was enough to lift a few burdens off of his shoulders.

But that brief glance ended when Fëanáro stood at the pedestal, and all else seemed to fade away into nothingness in front of the presence of the eldest son of Finwë.

And all looked to him, breath hitched and words fell silent.

His eyes first carefully looked around the square, the fire within them so great and unquenchable Findekáno felt ridiculously small below its watch. But he bid his heart to steel, and his mind to stay clear, for he, himself, is the eldest son and heir of Nolofinwë, and he is here on behalf of his father, and to him, his own loyalty lies.

"I see plainly upon your eyes, my kindred," Fëanáro started, voice silent still but dripping with such strength no one could quell, for he was a master of words as much as he was of anything else, "Of the confusion reigning strong within them, begging for answers that the silent Valar would no longer give us. Ever they provided us with knowledge unhindered, feeding our curiosities with new foundings and possibilities for our ever adventurous minds! But now, it is plain, look and be blind no longer!"

His hands curled into a fist as he slammed it upon the white marble, his voice booming into greater heights, "For the Valar keeps us as thralls within Valinor, within the white city of Tirion while the Second-Born received what is ours by birthright as the First-Born in the Outer Lands! It has been long since they persuaded my father, the Great Finwë, to leave the Outer Lands and raise our kind into their own kingdom made, but now we see their true colors and intent!"

Murmurs of agreement while shouts of folly and lies erupted suddenly in the crowd at the bold claim. Findekáno's mouth was agape, uncomprehending of what could have entered his Uncle Fëanáro's mind to come up with such a conclusion. Deep within, his nerves flared and his heart sang of something akin to both anger and confusion, and he lets his eyes drop to Maitimo's own to search for answers he may give him.

He found Maitimo was already looking at him, but there was nothing, no taste of answers, within his eyes.

To this, Findekáno frowned.

"Rise and seek what is ours, for are we not the Noldor? I refuse to believe that our fate will forever lie here dilly-dallying with the Powers while our true element lies beyond the Sundering Seas! I shall deliver the Noldor from the thraldom of the Valar, and all I ask of you, my kin, is to follow me!'

A resounding cheer rose as he finished, while some spoke in hurried disagreement who were still loyal to the Valar, and others lie in silent, their eyes confused and undecided.

Findekáno was among these people, and still, he fixed his eyes upon the eldest of Fëanáro, unwavering in its questioning of what was transpiring. But now, his cousin spared him no glance even until the Fëanorians all turned to leave the site, and Findekáno was left there, gaping, with a stab upon his heart that stung more than he thought it would.

"Findekáno," His cousin Findarato grabbed his shoulder. He can see he wore the same eyes as he did.

"We must go now and discuss this with your father." He finished, voice unusually in conflict and ungleeful, but still fair it was as it split through the noisy, rummaging crowd and into his turbulent thoughts. Still, Findekáno's eyes drifted to the retreating Fëanorions. 

"You're not actually thinking of talking to him, are you?" Some of those thoughts must have shown itself upon his face, for Findarato gave him a worried and unsure glance.

"I must." Findekáno simply said in truth. Findarato pursed his lips.

"Finno, now isn't the time---"

"Go on without me; I am going to speak to him objectively, and come as Nolofinwë's heir."

He can tell Findarato did not believe him. But there was a degree of truth in it.

So, he sent an apologetic look on his way, "I'll return as soon as I'm able to. Tell father my regards."

And with that, he left, quickly, for he felt the sudden drift of the wind of Manwë flowing in his black strands, as if telling him to hurry, hurry and catch the one who turned his back.

 

-

 

"Findekáno was there." Macalaurë told him.

"I know." Maitimo's eyes were bridled by unceasing thoughts.

"Do you think he'll follow us or not?"

Maitimo refused to look at his brother, lest he reveals such things he was not supposed to. So, he turned and looked instead at the blooming light of Telperion, whilst the rest of their brothers' footsteps echo in his ears as they retreat back to their household.

But amongst those mingling feä, suddenly, a new one came to the scene, and Maitimo knows who it was as clear as the waters of Ulmo.

"Brother?" Macalaurë said.

Maitimo realized he still hadn't replied, "Knowing Findekáno, he'll knock some sense into us first."

Macalaurë had the nerve to laugh, "I bid him goodluck on that."

He didn't get it. It seems he still haven't noticed him yet, strangely enough for Macalaurë's senses are keener than most, but perhaps there was more to this than Maitimo had thought. Findekáno, it seems, yearns to talk to him alone. Wise, for one Fëanorian is already too much to deal with, what more if he shall confront two? 

And so, he opted to chase Macalaurë away, instead.

"I'll meet you at our house. I have business to attend to." Maitimo said as he started walking the opposite way.

"What business?"

"I'm still not quite sure for the sender did not specify it."

Luckily, Macalaurë wasn't in any mood to interlude or even pester him further, so, Maitimo was left all alone under an oaken tree a few miles away from his household.

And as soon as Macalaure was out of sight, he finally turned again, and felt his heart quicken its pace.

Findekáno was walking towards him.

"You planned to leave without even a single greeting?" His fair voice split through the wind, and though it was meant as a gleeful remark, Maitimo can sense something else entirely. He was hurt, and Maitimo felt his heart collapse for being the source of it.

"I knew you would be upset." Maitimo said.

"You mean, you knew your father would be upset if you come and talk to me." Findekáno replied, a smile upon his lips though he knew it to be forced, "I understand; don't worry. My father doesn't want me talking to you either, though he's more silent and subtle about it than Uncle Fëanáro."

"So, you went against his wishes?"

"For you? Of course I did. And it's not like he is not used to me going against his wishes, anyway. I'm allowed a degree of freedom. Even while we talk now, I know he's already aware of it." Findekáno replied, a thoughtful look upon his eyes, though he didn't tear it away from Maitimo's gaze, "But it's different for you."

There were some implications within his words that Maitimo wasn't fond of, and he voiced it out, "It may be different, but my father is not this dictator you speak of, Findekáno. I, too, am allowed freedom to whoever I wish to speak. I can say that much."

"Then, when you left---"

He tore his gaze away, unable to maintain eye contact any longer. He never wanted this to happen, "It's not like that, Findekáno. You know this."

"Forgive me for thinking otherwise, then."

There was silence between them. It felt strange; it wasn't the silence that they have grown accustomed to, the serene kind wherein they can send words and be comforted through even the faintest of looks and touches, but this... it was tense, distant, as if there was a thick wall that separated them and sundered them apart from each other no matter how close they both actually are.

Unconsciously, Maitimo tried to reach out, to tear down that wall, and his heart swelled when Findekáno let him. The skin on his cheek felt soft, warm, and everything about the way he leaned in to his touch reminded Maitimo of Findekáno's light, and like a moth, he was drawned to it. A small inkling of that serene silence returned, and for a moment, he was thankful, but only for a fleeting moment he allowed himself to indulge in his warmth, for they can no longer be how they used to. 

Findekáno knows this well, and it pained him to see his fair face shift to one that dipped in sorrow when his hand gripped Maitimo's, and carefully lifted it off of his cheek.

"I came for this, but I also did not." His voice was silent.

"I can see that." Maitimo did his best to conceal his emotions from his voice.

Findekáno stepped back, and the warmth his hand left in Maitimo's hand suddenly felt hollow. His stance turned straight and strong. His shoulders rose, and his hands came to rest behind his waist. He would have looked and seemed exactly like his father, if it weren't for his bright eyes that had never looked so dim until now.

"Maitimo, listen," Findekáno's expression turned serious and stern, "Your father is planning an open rebellion against the Valar."

"A very thorough observation that would be, if it weren't so apparent." Maitimo said, already knowing where this will lead. 

"It's a fool's errand! The Maitimo I know would do his best to dissuade him from such a reckless venture!"

"I already have, Findekáno, but be that as it may, I can see now there is truth within his words that the Noldor are still not allowing themselves to see." Maitimo was surprised at the snarl within his voice, and he can tell Findekáno was shocked, as well.

"So, you agree?" Findekáno looked appalled beyond belief.

"I do." Maitimo said with no hesitation. He believed his father's words to be true; his beliefs are not unfounded like some others may claim. Fëanáro had always been a free-thinker, one who does not allow himself to conform to the present society's belief just because it endured for years. 

He did not like the indescribable look Findekáno gave him; though he respects his Uncle Nolofinwë, he knows this to be his influence. And so, he stepped forward to defend his father, "His works have depths deeper than the roots of trees; the gems he wrought more beautiful than even the ancient minerals found in caves. His knowledge of all things travel farther than most or even all of the Eldar, and still, it was not enough. And now, upon knowing there are still more to explore and even a new kindred to awaken, why must the Valar hinder us; why did they not tell them when they have told us all else?"

"Have the Valar done us any ill for you all to think such things? Have they not offered us their home and haven, and even go as far as to befriend us and shower us with gifts?" Findekáno told him, a fire slowly crawling within his eyes.

"Do not be a fool, Findekáno. You know that such an open demonstration of affection are not to be fully trusted."

"You call me a fool, but you Fëanorians are the ones who are attempting open rebellion against the Powers rashly." Findekáno bit back, there were no hesitation withholding his words now, "They will hear of this, Maitimo, and it will not look good on your side. The punishment is due. It's not too late to dissuade yourself from your course."

"I prefer to face that upfront than cower in the shadows forever kissing the feet of the Valar when we can be our own masters far beyond the island Illuvatar gave to us as our birthright."

Maitimo froze. His words, they came spilling like a damn that suddenly broke, and it was unnerving to hear it. He sounds exactly like his father. 

"Maitimo, you are not your father!" Findekáno did not hide his horror at his words, "Stop this!"

But his pride still reigned strong, and so, he stood his ground, "I speak as Maitimo Fëanorion. There is truth, you know this, in my words. Do not tell me that you, Findekáno li Astaldo, and your heart are not ignited at the mere thought of unknown lands and creatures? Such a thing will never be discovered so long as we stay here."

"Then let me speak as Prince Findekáno, Nolofinwë's heir, and tell you that though such a thought sounds appealing, there are things about it that ills me so. The Valar's silence can also be alluded to right timing as much as you and your kin alluded it to a negative light. There may be a reason and all I ask is for you to lay low and act no more until we can hear what the Valar has to say."

The words he threw irked Maitimo to no end, "Do not speak as if we are incapable of reasoning and diplomacy, such a thing has already passed our minds, for how could it not? This is the best course for things to finally be set into motion."

"Then I ask you to not be so stubborn and actually hear what I have said."

"I have heard it clearly. You would yearn to stop us from the rebellion and stand at the Valar's side. But this should not be so." And with this, a sundering fire awoke at the depths of his chest, and it can't be concealed no longer despite the rising doubt and regret that threatened to extinguish its flames. Still, he was not wholly consumed by Fëanáro's influence, and he yearns for peace as much as his cousins, "So I would ask this of you: Tell Uncle Nolofinwë to lay down his arms and speak behind my father's back no longer. Perhaps, we may come to an agreement and unite our kin against the Powers. Perhaps then, we might achieve victory."

"My father has done your father no ill, Nelyafinwë." The sound of his father-name being uttered by Findekáno's voice sounded foreign, "We will lay down no arms for we have not risen any, and all I seek, dear cousin, believe me, is your safety. So, stop twisting my words into villainy!"

Then conflict and confusion stood above the fire. Findekáno said that they have not rose any arms, implying there were no weapons drawn, or prepared to be drawn yet. Still, he and his kin had heard different. And though he knew Findekáno to be honest to a fault, and though he now stands behind what his father would deem the enemy lines, he knows he can trust him, and yet, the doubt that still lingered within his heart would not wane. 

What has this world come if he cannot bring himself to trust Findekáno?

What had become of them to be so wary even against those who they loved?

What lies have already mingled with the truth? 

But there was one thing he was certain of. Though the world may say otherwise, he knows he can trust Findekáno as much as he can trust his own family. Even if the deceit sown within his heart say something different.

"If my safety is your concern..." Maitimo started, voice now wavering to the conflict brewing in his mind, "Then you must leave me now, before my father suspects something. Even if you dissuade me and succeed, I can do nothing to stop my father. He listens to no one."

But the second his words left his lips, he felt the tinge of regret swallow his heart at the notion of pushing Findekáno away, and how Findekáno's expression quickly shifted to that of being dejected. This quality of his was, in earlier times, endearing, for Findekáno clearly wears all that he had felt upon his face; no dishonesty, no masks. But now, it has done nothing but bring them both unceasing pain.

"That may be wise." His voice was soft, and he made no effort to feign it to be strong, "But what does Maitimo say, behind the guise of Prince Nelyafinwë, heir of Fëanáro?"

That struck him in a way he did not expect. But as the world seemed to still around them, as the light of Laurelin mingled with the golden light of Telperion, Findekáno's visage seemed to glow below his gaze. The light he bore upon his silver eyes, no matter how dim it may be, they still were not wholly conquered by the darkness now set upon the hearts of the Noldor. And he was surprised, surprised to realize he was even shocked by this revelation.

Findekáno had always borne the light. It made no sense to think otherwise.

The winds grew warm; the autumn leaves from the trees fell slowly from their branches, and all seemed tranquil, as if the conflict of their house still had not reached or tainted its serenity. He wanted nothing more now than to elope with Findekáno, leave their duties and their responsibilities and simply be Maitimo and Findekáno, who once were simply young lovers in love unmindful yet at peace with the lands around them, playing at the waters and sleeping under the stars with nothing but their laughters and their joy accompanying them, unburdened still by the weight of the world despite thriving as the heirs of both of their houses.

Though that fate was no longer possible to them, still, he allowed himself to indulge in his warmth for the moment.

"If he's allowed," Maitimo took a deep breath as he stepped forward, capturing Findekáno's fingers in his, "He will want to tell you that he loves you, and will want you not to follow us if what you say may indeed come true; he wants you untouched by the consequences of Fëanáro and Fëanáro's kin, and he wants you safe behind the protection of the Valar no matter what ill may befall him, though he trusts them not."

"Then," A smile broke into Findekáno's lips, small and sad it was, but it still brought about comfort within his thoughts, "He would be disappointed to hear that I would follow him, either way, and would not let Maitimo shoulder everything alone."

Maitimo was at a loss for words, and a new dread entered his veins.

"If Maitimo can't be dissuaded, I will not be his enemy, though my loyalty stays with my father, I will also not let this sunder me from him."

What has Maitimo done to deserve such a thing?

"Findekáno," he started, to be the one now to convince him to divert from this path, but Findekáno shook his head.

"I am as stubborn as you are; perhaps what you have said earlier, the unification of our houses, may indeed be possible, though it seems unlikely now. But remember, Maitimo, I'll never consider you an enemy, and I respect the decisions made by Maitimo and Prince Maitimo all the same. So, if you are in need, count on me to help you, no matter how sundered both of our houses may be."

"Then I wasn't wrong when I said you were a fool, Finno." Maitimo said in despair, squeezing Findekáno's hand.

"I may be one," The smile upon his face now was more genuine, and Maitimo melted at the sight, "But do not think of this as your fault; this is my decision and I will shoulder it. No matter how dire things may end up being."

It was during that moment he realized Findekáno had won. None can win against Maitimo in terms of court or diplomacy, or even the simplest of arguments rising in mundane subjects, but Findekáno was different. He did not win because he wanted to; he won because he knew Maitimo loved him. And he used this to his advantage: to force Maitimo to keep himself safe. He knows Maitimo, clearly, as if he was an open book plain for all to see when he was more of a chest chained to the darkest of corners, but he had always had it in him to make him tear down his walls, to capture him within his hands unhindered. And he remembered, time and time again, that Findekáno's talents not only lied in his strength of arms and valour of heart, but also that of words and voice; he would have been exceptional in court, rose through the ranks quickly if he had so desired, but he never sought his own, not power or even his own safety, and this proved to be his sole weakness. Maitimo yearned for this to not be the cause of Findekáno's undoing: this absolute impulsiveness and recklessness, that Maitimo had promised to protect him from. And if he could not be hindered, then he shall be there to keep him safe.

And all this, he communicated as he leaned down and brushed his lips against Findekáno's, slowly growing intimate while he pulled him closer, his hand burying itself upon his dark strands. His cousin's warm hands snake through his neck; all walls teared down as they bore themselves open to each other again.

No words slip from their lips then, even after they broke their kiss, for they gave each other a look that can tell far more than words can ever will. For Maitimo's part, he found himself lost in his silver eyes, glimmering from tears unshed as it captured the light of Laurelin. He kissed his lashes next as his hand found Findekáno's cheek, feeling the cold teardrops dropping upon his fingers like waterfalls crashing upon a mountain of rocks in the spring of the awakening world.

And wordless, with a last glance as they each tread upon their separate paths, they left. 

If Maitimo had known what would happen then, he never would have left. If Maitimo had known this will be the last he'll see an innocent Findekáno, he never would have let him go, pressing him to his chest and not allowing anything to separate them, not even his loyalty to his father, not even for the sake of duty and his family.

For the night will soon come. And so will the unnumbered regrets that will soon reign.

 

-

 

Ear-splitting screaming. Swords clashing and clanging. Blood dripping unceasingly. Bodies dropping like flies.

It all happened too fast.

He had no time to register what had befallen, what had occurred. All he recalled was the split-second of a screaming Teleri charging forward, armed with a hunting spear, and his instinct yelled at him to unsheathe his sword, and that he did.

And before he knew it, he was coated in something red, the smell seething of iron, the taste sweet upon his lips, then all hell broke loose. 

The coldness of the night seeped into his skin as he lets his body move as it wanted, not stopping for a moment to think. Flashes of fire appeared throughout the vicinity of his sight, of blood spilling upon his own kinsman's neck; his sword capturing the light of both fire and star upon its blade, piercing smoothly through a Teleri's ribcage. His heart hammered against his chest, his hands starting to worn, his feet growing numb but he knew this was not due to the exhaustion of his physical body. It was due to something else, something gnawing against his chest, against his throat, against his mind.

And when he realized it to be regret, as the realization came upon him of what he was doing, that's when he suddenly stayed his sword.

And time went still for Maitimo.

There was a bloodied Teleri woman standing in front of him, her face contorted into that of horror. She wasn't clad in armor, only the traditional garb for those who fared in the sea, and it was strewn with so much blood he was unsure if the color of her garb is supposed to be red. She was gasping, a hunting spear upon her hand, not used for fighting, no, none of the Teleri were prepared for this.

And all around him, he heard of screaming, of swords clashing, of the roaring waves crashing upon the shore as if it was lamenting, wrathful, at what the Fëanorians had done. But a fast glance was enough to see that his kin were losing, and they were almost overcome.

But the Teleri woman suddenly screamed, and Maitimo could not stop his hand from rising to deal the killing blow, out of despair for his family and people, and his sword pierced seamlessly through her stomach. Though suddenly, horror struck him when he felt an impact upon his leg, and it threw him down onto the floor. Looking up quickly, he saw a hammer bearing down towards him, too fast to dodge, or to even counter, and all he managed was to raise his arm and sword, but it seemed he did not need to. For another sword, more lean and clean, stroke down the hand that wielded the hammer like a lightning that came down from the skies.

Not a moment later, he looked upon the fair face of Findekáno, still gleaming with the light of Aman upon his face. He was looking down at him, unsure, confused, with an expression that he was sure he is wearing himself. The sword belonged to him.

Then a horn sounded from behind him; the host of Nolofinwë had arrived. Their kinsman ran down the slopes towards Alquolonde, killing in their might and urgency, following the steps of their Prince Findekáno. Maitimo noticed now Aegnor and Angrod were directly behind Findekáno, their twin swords and glaives upon their hands as they quickly overthrew the defending Teleri.

And something akin to hope awakened in Maitimo's heart, though it felt wrong. Findekáno offered him a hand, and he took it. There was blood dripping upon his face, he only noticed now.

"It's not mine." Findekáno said in urgency, his free hand gripping his shoulder in comfort. And with that confirmation that released a profound relief unknown to Maitimo until now, they wielded their swords again, seamlessly and with grace, their movements perfectly in tuned with each other with a new fire awakening within their hearts. The song of battle and swords sang with a deafening tune, and with Findekáno by his side, its echoing sound felt different in his ears, and amongst all the terrible noise surrounding them, there was that familiar fire in his heart that made itself known whenever he is by his side.

"Ossë!" A deafening scream rose above all sounds; it was the voice of the king of the Teleri, wounded and mournful, "I beg you for your help! Please! My people are dying for naught!"

But the seas, though ravenous and relentlessly crashing upon the shore with its wild waves, stood silent. The battle did not cease; Maitimo and Findekáno were pushed to the shore, but they were formidable in battle, and they could not be conquered.

Darkness reigned as the screams slowly die out; the stars of Varda looked dim when finally the clashing sound ceased. Maitimo felt his throat release deep pants from exhaustion, the fire of some torches dying out upon the waves crashing upon the shore.

And that was when he saw it.

The shore. 

The waves carried red, his kinsman lay upon the starlit sand stained by blood, severed hands and bodies so mutilated unseen before by his amber eyes. It was so... unfitting. It looked wrong. Immortals, lying dead and slain, their eternal lives taken from them by their own hands. He can see his brothers scattered among the field, safe and covered by the mire of blood, though he knew it to not be theirs by the way they stood unmoving. Their faces uncomprehending of the horror they just committed.

From afar, nearer to the shore but closer to him, he noticed golden ribbons being carried away by the quiet wind, the dark strands of his hair mingling along with it. His silver and blue armor were stained by dark red, dripping terribly unfitting upon what should be shining silver. He was looking at something below him, and like his brothers, he stood frozen like planted upon the ground.

Maitimo walked over to him, and saw what he was looking at. It was a slain Teleri Elf, his eyes still open as it gazed unceasingly at the stars of Varda behind an eternally black chasm. Maitimo recognizes him.

"He was... my friend." Findekáno's voice was barely above a whisper. On instinct, he looked at Findekáno's face to reply, but now he knew he shouldn't have. For his face paled, and he felt a heavy weight dragging down upon his heart, upon his shoulders, upon his eyes. He felt his fingers weaken, and the handle of his sword slip free from his grasp as it came tumbling down upon the sand.

He had never seen such horror upon Findekáno's face before. He had never seen such utter regret, sorrow and pain so palpably seen upon his eyes. Findekáno's walls are all down, his suffering so plainly seen that Maitimo knows one did not have to have bonded with him to see it.

"He was my friend, and I killed him." Findekáno said again. His gaze never rose. Maitimo was unsure if he was talking to himself, or if he even realized Maitimo was beside him. 

"I thought the Valar ordered them to stop us from departing." He muttered below his breath. Maitimo wanted to, yearned to pull him closer and embrace him. His hand rose and attempted to grasp his hand, but he froze when he saw red drenching his hands still.

"What did he say to you?" Maitimo said instead, warily, for he knows what has transpired.

"'Why are you doing this, Findekáno?', he said, 'They're our ships! They're just as important to us as the silmarils are to yours!'" Findekáno's imitation lacked the usual light he brings to it. 

Maitimo bit his lip, there was now doubt crippling his heart. He decided to answer Findekáno's unasked question, the question he knows Findekáno was trying his hardest to ask, "We needed ships to cross the seas. The Teleri refused. My father attempted to steal them away silently during the night, but we were spotted, and..."

And they fought. Maitimo's voice trailed off, gazing silently still at the distraught expression of his cousin. He can see how his cousin's thoughts surged, how he came to fight by their side from the way his eyes casted down. Findekáno impulsively charged forward, out of his love for Maitimo. He quickly ran down to save him, without being aware of what had transpired. Why the Teleri had been attacking the Noldor; why they ended up at the ends of each other's swords. 

He could not fault him. Maitimo would have done the same, if he saw his kin overcome, almost beaten and killed, and all he did was save them, but at the cost of something greater.

In his ignorance and recklessness, out of his love and noble heart, Findekáno became a kinslayer like him.

How could a love breed out so much sin?

Findekáno's eyes looked dry, as if all the tears he can shed had already been shed, as if his despair is too deep that he can no longer summon the strength to weep. Maitimo failed to protect him, and instead, it was the other way around.

'Go back. Don't go with us. Stay here.' Maitimo wanted to say, but his voice fell short. He wanted to undo that expression upon his face, and be replaced by his untainted smile, his easygoing laugh returned. But Findekáno then looked at him, and still, the love seen within his eyes that he still bore for Maitimo drove daggers into his heart, in a way he never thought. Not even once did he ever think he will end up hurt because Findekáno continued to love him even after everything that has happened.

"There's no going back." Findekáno told him, his face haunted still, "We killed our own kin. There is no going back."

Sequentially, Fëanáro's horn blew. His father's great voice beckoned them all to follow, to traverse the path towards the Northern road and ride the stolen ships there, towards the sundering seas and finally, to step upon the shores of Middle Earth.

Maitimo saw his brothers quickly follow, their strides unreluctant, their shoulders rigid and stern. The rest of his kin under the banners of Nolofinwë and Arafinwë followed the banner of Fëanáro, their High King.

And so did Findekáno, as he unsheated his sword and walked forward.

"There's no going back." Maitimo said to himself, affirming himself. Findekáno was right. They were kinslayers now. The punishment will be due; it is an action that cannot be undone.

There is nothing that can be done now.

From afar, his eyes spotted a cloaked figure upon a high cliff. His face hidden by the shadow of his hood, but beneath it gleamed a white glow that can only be alluded to his eyes. The waves roared behind him, the storm clouds circling around him as if he was the precipice, summoning thunder and lightning to his ominous presence, and something akin to fear claimed Maitimo's heart.

The punishment will be due.


End file.
